Unfortunate Circumstances
by Erisella
Summary: Eames doesn't like admitting he cares, even when his lover dies. But as much as he tries to hide his feelings, the mask breaks away.


**Unfortunate Circumstances**

**Summary:** Eames doesn't like admitting he cares, even when his lover dies. But as much as he tries to hide his feelings, the mask breaks away.

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**Note:** I do not own any part of Inception.

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**1.**

Eames had always made himself very clear. He cares about the money and the job. He doesn't care about the people. He demonstrated himself quite well during inception when all he could care about was what was in that damned safe rather than the fact that their mark was dead and in limbo.

Eames liked that people looked at him like he was cold hearted and unable to care for anyone but himself. It made him less vulnerable and allowed him to stay out of unnecessary relationships, which he was certain would only distract him from his job.

He was always so sure of himself, knowing exactly what kind of a person he was. Then he met Arthur and his entire definition of himself was turned upside down.

**2.**

When Eames met Arthur, they had both been years younger and less experienced. Yet, even back then, they were the best at what they did. The forger had only ever heard of the name Arthur through Dominic and Mal Cobb. They called him the best in the business and he nicknamed him their "little pet" before even meeting the point man.

Their first meeting was uneventful. They regarded each other in silence and neither said a word to one another. They listened, but never spoke. Eames was very unsure about this Arthur character. The point man looked like he had just graduated from high school, but was trying far too hard to dress like a business man. Eames had rolled his eyes at the rolled up sleeves and loosened tie.

It wasn't until they started training together in dreams that he realized Arthur was former military. The man handled his weapons like lovers, knowing them intimately and using them to their full capacity. His hand to hand combat wasn't too shabby either. That was when Eames started taking an interest, something he had told himself he shouldn't do.

"You're ex-military," the forger had said, approaching Arthur at his work station.

"Is that a problem?" the other man questioned, not looking up from his work.

"Which division?" Eames pressed, wondering if this whole attitude he was dealing with was a façade.

"What's it to you?"

The forger sighed, "I'm curious. Is that good enough for you?"

The point man finally looked up and gave him an uninterested glance before replying, "Black ops."

Eames stood incredibly stunned. He wasn't sure if Arthur was lying or not, but if he was that was one hell of a lie to be telling someone.

**3.**

Eames doesn't like to admit it, but he knew he was starting to develop a _thing_ for Arthur when he started to dream about the point man. Those dark, dark eyes haunted his dreams and those lips always held a whisper of a smile, as if hiding a very special secret. He doesn't like to admit that sometimes he woke up in the middle of the night completely flustered and unable to think.

The cigarettes don't help with the dreams. He would suck them down to the filter, hoping the nicotine would calm his nerves, help him sleep, but they do nothing of the sort. The drinking helped even less. It only made him realize how incredibly stupid and childish he was being with this new fascination of his.

_This isn't me!_ He would berate himself. _This is stupid and you're going to end up ruining everything you've built up for yourself. Stop it this instant!_ But as much as his mind wanted him to distance himself from the situation, he would always jump at the chance to work with Arthur.

**4.**

He could tell by the fifth job they've worked together. He knew that something between them was developing and that no matter how much he wanted to stop it, he couldn't. It wasn't anything groundbreaking, no passionate kissing or animalistic needing. It was subtle and it was good enough for him.

Eames noticed the things that made him really love the type of relationship, as small as it was then, that he had with Arthur. The one thing that they both took part in was the bickering and bantering. To their coworkers, usually the Cobbs, it was the two not getting along. To him, to the forger and the point man, it was their own small way of accepting each other and communicating on the same level.

Then there were the small, almost hidden smiles, Arthur would give him. Sometimes, it's during an argument, meant to be taken in good humor. Others it was just a smile for smiles sake, nothing to explain or dwell on. Then there were the genuine smiles, those rare ear to ear ones that made the forger's heart race. But those were the ones that were always fast and fleeting, almost as if the point man were trying to hide his pleasure.

But then, Eames could tell what type of man Arthur was. The point man was uptight and a right stick in the mud, but it was to distance himself from others. It gave Arthur no obligations to be anyone's friend or develop any sort of relationship once a job was done, though Dom and Mal were a different story completely. They were the same, each hiding from emotion and potential hurt in their own way.

_We're exactly the same._

**5.**

The first real sign of affection didn't come for a whole two years. By then they had been on more than a dozen jobs together. Neither had any expectations of escaping one another, but that moment had been defining.

Leaning over classified files and candid photos, Eames had decided to stay late in the hotel room the team had rented out for the job. It beat the hell out of some abandoned warehouse out in the middle of nowhere. He stayed late and he watched Arthur, whose dark eyes scanned over lines of words.

The forger wasn't sure what made him walk to the table at that moment, but he did and he placed the palms of his hands on the table, leaning in to take a better look. Arthur gave him a quick sideways glance and looked away so fast Eames hardly registered the smile on the other man's face.

They stayed silent for long minutes. Then Eames felt Arthur's cold fingers, slowly, hesitantly being laid on the back of his hand. That simple touch made him shiver and he breathed, never even knowing he had been holding his breath the entire time. The whole world could have crumbled around him and he would have opted to stay in that moment just for a little longer.

But the world didn't fall apart and they stayed like that, hands touching, for just a little while longer.

**6.**

The first time Eames saw Arthur hurt, really hurt, in reality, an uncomfortable feeling blossomed in his chest, causing his breath to catch in his throat. The point man had been shot, blood dripping from the wound in his abdomen. He had half run, half stumbled into the warehouse they had been using as headquarters, cursing and filled with rage.

"We have to move now!" Arthur said through gritted teeth as he clutched his side with one hand and started to douse everything within reach with gasoline with the other.

"What are you doing?" Eames asked, already knowing, but not wanting to, "That's months of work!"

"We have to destroy it or they'll know what we're up to!" the point man exclaimed, unrelenting and completely focused even as he continued to bleed out. "We've been double crossed!"

_Shit!_ Eames thought to himself. He knew, without a doubt, who had sold them out. It was their architect, a mousy woman who had no place in the extraction business. He should have known. He propelled into action, taking everything that was necessary, including the PASIV device.

"Do you have a lighter?" Arthur's voice wavered and the forger felt himself hesitate at the request, "A lighter, Eames!"

Eames pulled out his Zippo lighter and ignited it. He saw the pained look on the point mans face and, without a second thought, tossed the lighter into a puddle of gasoline. They ran out together, the forger supporting the wounded man, cursing under his breath as the warehouse burned behind them.

**7.**

In the years after that incident, Eames discovered every scar across Arthur's body. He knew every story they told and every moment they were given because Arthur remembered and had let the forger in. But Eames knew it was the point man that had gotten under his skin, not the other way around.

The point was made all too clear when he got the call in the middle of the night. There had been silence on the other end and in his sleepy haze he waited patiently, listening to the person on the other end breathing unevenly.

"If you don't start talking soon, I'm going to hang up," he finally said, rubbing his eyes before resting the palm of his hand on his face.

"It's Cobb," the man on the phone finally spoke, sounding shaken.

"What are you doing calling me?" Eames asked, surprised and incredibly annoyed at being disturbed so late.

There was a long moment of silence and the forger contemplated telling the extractor to fuck off, but then the reply came. "Arthur's dead."

He immediately shot up in bed, the words striking deep and hard. He wanted to feel something, but all he felt at that moment was numbness.

"Eames?"

"Good for him." Eames couldn't fathom what made those words come out of his mouth.

"Eames!"

He hung up before he could listen to anymore. He sat there in the darkness of his home, staring at the phone in his hand. His eyes traveled to the window and the night sky was clear, filled with stars, without a cloud in sight. He kept staring, feeling the numbness spreading through him.

Then his world was imploding and shattering into pieces. He hurled his phone as hard as he could at the window, the glass shattering and spilling onto the floor. Then he was screaming and cursing, up and out of bed. Everything he touched went flying into walls, they shattered and fell apart where his fingertips touched and it wasn't enough to calm or satisfy him because Arthur was gone.

"You fucking bastard!" he was vaguely aware of the fact that he was crying.

**8.**

"You're not the only one who has slept around," Arthur had said to him, smiling wickedly.

Those words were the most unexpected words to ever escape from the point man's mouth. They've known each other for five years by then and finally, after all the touches and stolen kisses; they were going to sleep together. Eames had been worried Arthur was inexperienced, but he was proven wrong.

The first time isn't slow. It wasn't fast either. It's not filled with desperation or some sort of feeling of overwhelming love. It was filled with laugher and satisfaction, something Eames would have taken over regular love making any day. It wasn't just in the motions, but in the things they had said. It was one of those "first times" that he knew would forever be imbedded into his mind.

Arthur had laughed at the concern look on the forger's face, "You won't break me you know."

"I'm almost positive I can, darling," Eames had smirked.

"I'd like to see you try," the point man challenged before pulling the forger close and kissing him so hard Eames remembered his lips being bruised.

**9.**

"We can't keep doing this," Eames said, running a hand through his hair.

"Excuse me?" Arthur asked, giving the forger a look of confusion. "I'm not sure I understand."

"This thing," Eames answered, trying to put as much venom in his voice as possible, "We can't keep it up! It's going to land us in a lot of trouble."

The point man was silent, giving Eames a hard look. The forger couldn't take his eyes away from that face, those lips drawn tight and the anger that sparked in those eyes. It hurt him to see Arthur that way, but he knew he had to say it. He was losing himself in all of things they had been doing. He was no longer who he used to be. He cared and he didn't want to because he knew the job would not allow them to.

The last time a job had gone wrong, mostly due to his own carelessness, Arthur had gotten hurt, on his account. The point man still had a deep and ugly scar running the length of his back because of it and every time they had sex, Eames would stare and stare knowing it had been his fault.

His profession afforded him nothing. He knew he couldn't be in this relationship. He couldn't harbor the feelings he had.

"So, that's it," Arthur said, deathly calm and composed.

"That's it."

There was a moment of silence before the point man nodded his agreement, "Good bye, Mr. Eames."

Those words had hurt far more than he had been expecting.

**10.**

The first time they kissed it was unexpected. They weren't on a job then. Eames had called on Arthur, wanting to get a cup of coffee, or whatever drink the point man fancied. Arthur had been hesitant, but in the end agreed.

They never did go for coffee, but they took a long stroll in the park, the Autumn wind chilling them as they talked. They didn't realize how much time had passed until it started to get dark and the streetlights flickered on.

"I'm going to have to be a gentleman and take you home," Eames had teased. Instead of a retort of annoyance, Arthur had laughed with such warmth that the forger knew it was the moment he fell in love.

It was supposed to be an innocent send off, but at the door, before Eames could turn and walk away. Arthur took hold of the forger's wrist and pulled him close. Their lips pressed together in a quick and chaste kiss, too fast for Eames to even really understand at first. And when he pulled back, he was looking into Arthur's eyes, those warm brown orbs filled with hesitation and expectation.

Then Eames' hands were on the back of the point man's neck and their lips were reunited, a pair of lovers moving intimately against one another. It was as if their bodies had always known each other, always craved one another.

**11.**

"You weren't supposed to leave me," Eames said, his hands balled into fists, "Not like this."

"I know, but it was out of my control," Arthur replied. But Eames knew it wasn't the real Arthur. The point man only wore three piece suits in dreams and it was, without a shadow of a doubt, a dream. He remembered plugging himself in.

"I never got to speak to you after the Fischer job," the forger said, feeling the sorrow and regret rising into his chest. He tried to push those feelings down, tried to swallow them all away.

"You didn't stay long enough to catch me before you left," the projection said, stepping closer, hands in his pockets.

"How could I?"

"Why couldn't you?"

"Because I knew I'd hurt you."

Then Arthur was smiling, filled with so much warmth it nearly burned, "How can you ever hurt me?"

**12.**

"I'm sorry for how I acted on the phone," Eames said to Cobb, sitting in the extractor's living room, "I just didn't know how to respond."

"It's okay, Eames," Cobb said, sitting down on the sofa next to the forger, "I understand."

"Can you… can you tell me how he died?" Eames asked. The way the words left his mouth felt as if he had said something terribly wrong.

"It was a car accident. The other driver was drunk, going way too fast, and ran a red light. The driver's side was completely smashed," Cobb had to pause to keep his voice from trembling, "They had to cut him out of the crushed frame. He was still alive when they brought him to the hospital, but… there was nothing they could do for him."

And Eames couldn't help but give a sad laugh, "Of all the ways for him to go."

The silence between the two men stretched and stretched. Eames couldn't believe how ridiculous it was. Arthur did so many dangerous things and had been hurt so many times. Then some drunk driver takes him out with a single blow. It was utterly ridiculous.

He hardly looked up when Cobb rose and walked out of the room. The extractor returned with a small envelope that was addressed to Eames. The forger looked at the writing and knew right away who had addressed it to him.

"About a year ago, Arthur gave this to me and told me to give it to you if anything happened to him."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

**13.**

He was dreaming again, sitting on a swing set in the park he and Arthur had walked in that night they kissed. The projection of Arthur was there, looking a little silly sitting there on the swing in his perfectly tailored suit.

"Why won't you read it?" the projection asked, pushing himself back and forth on the swing.

"Because I'm afraid of what it'll say," Eames admitted.

Arthur gave him a smile, "I think you already know what it says."

"How can I possibly know?" the forger asked.

"Because you've always trusted your feelings about me."

"But you're not here anymore."

The projection didn't speak.

**14.**

Eames' fingers lingered on the flap of the envelope, his hands shaking. He took a deep breath before setting it down on his bed. He kept repeating the same movements over and over, picking up the envelope and then putting it down when his nerves failed him.

_Just fucking do it!_ He told himself, angry at how he was acting.

Finally, he picked up the envelope and didn't linger on the thought of opening it. He simply tore the flap open and pulled out what was inside. The envelope fell out of his hand as he stared at what he held in his hand. It was a picture from years ago, one that Mal had taken of himself and Arthur in Prague.

Eames had been smiling, but Arthur looked more reserved, not quite looking at the camera. The forger held the picture, his fingers tracing the image of the point man suspended in time. Slowly, he turned it over and there was Arthur's neat, cursive writing.

_No matter what direction I head, I will always love you._

And all Eames could do was cry.

**15.**

"Are you better now?" the projection of Arthur asked, a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"No," Eames answered, "But I think it'll be easier now."

Arthur smiled, looking so happy and yet so sad, "I can leave now, if you want me to."

"No, stay."

"Why?"

"Because I was wrong to have doubted what I knew was right all along."

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**Note:** Thank you everyone for reading! I just wanted to write a sad story. I hope you all enjoyed and please leave a review to let me know what you think! Thank you again!


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